Theatre Historical Society of America
BROTHER ANDREW CORSINI 1916-2003
THSA CATALYST
Andy was born John Elsworth Fowler in Chicago on February 8, 1916. He grew up on the South Side: as a child he was able to savor the TIVOLI Theatre (1921) in its fullest flower; and it remained his favorite throughout his life; as an adolescent, he was in a position to watch the construction of the SOUTHTOWN (1931), Chicago’s last great movie palace. He graduated from Elkhart High School in Elkhart, Indiana. After a year of college he returned to Elkhart to manage a couple of theatres.
Despite his love for theatres, John Fowler saw his real calling in service to the Catholic Church. He entered the Congregation of Holy Cross (the founders of Notre Dame University) in 1941, taking his final vows five years later. As was the custom at the time, he took a new name: Brother Andrew Corsini. Until his retirement over five decades later, he served the order as a cook and baker, in postings from coast to coast.
During his stint in Washington, D.C., Andy was in particularly close touch with Ben Hall, and it was Andy who prodded Ben into doing something about setting up the organization they had talked about for so long. Ben Hall was a tireless procrastinator, and while nobody but him had the visibility and influence to muster the troops, probably nobody but Andy had the tenacity to stay on Ben’s case until it was done. At the same time, Ben prodded Andy to become our first editor. Thirty-five years later, here we are.
Andy edited Marquee® for eleven years, longer than has anybody else. I have in front of me the first and last issues edited by him. They share, intentionally, the same cover photograph, but they are otherwise not much alike. Vol. 1, No. 1, is eight pages long, composed on a typewriter and printed on fairly cheap paper. Vol. 11, No. 4, runs to sixteen pages; the text is type-set and the paper is slick. I am in a position to assure you that today’s Marquee® still bears Andy’s stamp, and is produced with an eye to the standards he set (although he had the odd habit of spelling “vertical” “verticle”).
Without intending to do so, Andy was also the catalyst for the establishment of our Archive. Back at Notre Dame in the mid-1970s, he finagled space for our growing collections in the same climate-controlled vault used by the school for its own material. In the early 1980s, when that space was no longer available, Andy insisted that THS take charge of the collection. Installed in the basement of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Chicago, the Archive became available to the public for the first time.
One of Andy’s last assignments was at Notre Dame High School for Boys in Niles, Illinois, which enabled him to participate in the move to Elmhurst and to drop by often. [The formal dedication of the new Elmhurst headquarters took place in November, 1991.] After moving back to South Bend in 1996, the distance and his declining health made his visits far less frequent.
Brother Andrew died of complications from diabetes. A funeral mass was held at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, Notre Dame, on November 5, followed by a Rite of Committal at the Holy Cross Community Cemetery.
Andy was a vivid character: pussy cat and curmudgeon, friend and critic, all at the same time. I don’t know of anybody who knew him who didn’t like him immensely. He was our last link to the founding days to THS, and absolutely irreplaceable.
--- Steve Levin
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My Sophomore year in High School was when I turned sixteen, and I ran down the day after my birthday to “enlist” as an usher with Balaban & Katz for the 3900-seat MARBRO, between home and school. My appetite for theatres had started when I was 4 – and we went to the nearby 3000-seat SENATE. By the time I was eleven, they had decided to raze the 3600-seat PARADISE that was closest to my home. It seemed nobody cared. An elderly librarian at the local public library knew of my fruitless inquiries, so one day she seemed pleased to give me the address of “some man” who had been in also, inquiring of our local theatres. The name “B. Andrew Corsini” sounded like another of the many Italians in the neighborhood. So I wrote, and that is how it all started for me.
B. Andrew was later Brother Andrew; he was English (John Fowler), not Italian at all! A round robin of letters connected Terry Helgesen (Los Angeles), Bill Peterson (Portland, Oregon), Ben Hall (New York), and me (Chicago). Ben had the idea; he pushed Brother Andy to “start” our Society. I think B. Andy didn’t know what he was getting into, none of us had any idea we would be as valuable as we are today.
As the “kid” in the group, I now think of it as providential that Brother Andrew became my “mentor.” He coaxed me into writing dozens of articles, worked with me to produce a bunch of our Annuals; and always admonished and encouraged me with the patience of Job and the finesse of a corporate executive. By day, he cooked meals for his fellow brothers, and also later managed their archives.
He started our archives by assembling, tagging, storing, and preserving collections that came to us. He managed them as long as he could, in his position, and helped reestablish and formalize our systems in my neighborhood in Chicago. During my terms as president, his patient counsel to me yielded the members an organization that established formal space, gained an employee, and allowed us to become the professionals we are.
I learned from Brother Andrew what it really means to be a brother; I learned the patient methods that have helped me in my business. To all of us, he showed what the real beauty and quality of the theatres really is: a special environment for community, and sharing hopes, dreams, and creations.
--- Joseph R. DuciBella
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I first met Brother Andrew about twenty years ago, but it was not until 1990 when I worked with him in preparing the Conclave issue for Marquee® that I got to really know him. That began a wonderful relationship. He visited my home several times and he always took over the kitchen, preparing meals that ranged from the simple to the superb.
I learned much about theatres because he shared his knowledge and experience. He could tell you the color of draperies and decoration in some obscure theatre. He could be cranky and irascible at times.
He loved good food and he clearly had a passion for desserts. A favorite candy was Fannie May apricot creams. He was a terror behind the steering wheel of a car and I had several white-knuckle experiences riding with him.
I was a guest on two occasions at the high school faculty house where he resided. I celebrated Catholic Mass with him in a small chapel in the residence and witnessed his deep devotion as a brother in the Holy Cross Order of the Roman Catholic Church.
His personal collection of theatre history and memorabilia overflowed from his small bedroom into another bedroom that he appropriated as his study. He had a large television but it was only connected to a VCR in which he would play some of his favorite films. He read several newspapers each day.
He moved to Notre Dame University about the same time that I relocated to Arizona. My house was located on Scarlet Canyon Drive and in a postcard he asked if we could change the name to Scarlet O’Hara Canyon. I can picture him chuckling at the time.
His health began to fail and it became more difficult to hold his interest in conversation. That was my personal loss, only finalized by his death in November 2003. I miss him but look forward to more conversation at another time in another place.
--- Barry Goodkin
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Here was a man with a serious reputation. And it was true to the core. Brother Andrew loved his chocolate. But then he was a sweet man. Whether he’d admit it or not. He was also a man of great knowledge and many talents, and as a result he became the first master editor of Marquee®. He was an alchemist, joining his love for theatres with largely self-taught layout skills to produce magazines that were seamlessly top-notch, all the more remarkable in a low-tech age.
In any age his accumulated wisdom was invaluable, yet Brother Andrew would pass it along to anyone interested – “gratis, natch,” he might say. And, at bottom, how he said things was the key. And he fooled no one who was listening. The legendary gruff exterior never quite hid the big heart, nor certainly the sharp wit. It’s a legacy he might shrug off, but it’s one he richly deserves.
--- David Naylor
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I met Andy only three times: at the 1977 and 1981 Conclaves, and here in Milwaukee during a trip here in 1982 while he was on other business. He related his time here in the 1950s, when he toured many theatres here, and said he grew to like the city. A couple of years ago, he noticed my customized version of the pictorial letterhead of our WHITEHOUSE Theatre, and asked me even then for a copy of it to add to his collection. He tells me in a letter I still have of how he berated himself for having walked past that most unusual theatre and never having gone inside (it was demolished when I was a boy).
He was the ever-encouraging correspondent, representing THS when I first learned of its existence in 1973 just after their tour of Milwaukee’s theatres. He was the one who encouraged me to write for Marquee®, but after I pushed him for a treatment of the decorative draperies in theatres, he turned around and pushed me to do the introduction to the then-in-the-works Annual on them for 1982. Without his encouragement and helpfulness, I doubt I would have completed that, and said he was very pleased with both my little contribution as well as the master text by Terry Helgesen in Los Angeles. We lost touch after he left the editorship, but his contributions were well summarized in the special supplement to the special issue on the TIVOLI, titled "The Importance of The True Scholar."
The Great Resurrection will come to this earth in the not too distant future and those who survive into that glorious paradise earth then to be, will have the privilege of knowing him once again, in youthfulness and vigor as well as full memory of his days here, as he will live with all those billions resurrected for a life of eternity. Nowhere in the Bible does it say that mankind has immortal souls, but instead, God does remember each one of us in complete detail and will thus restore us to life in a world of abundance, peace and happiness. What a grand time Andy will then have to come to learn the truth of God’s Word, and then to no doubt take part in designing and building theatres of the future!
I look forward to greeting him then.
--- Jim Rankin
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Editor’s Note: Jim Rankin makes mention of an essay first published in Vol. 17, No. 4 (4th Quarter, 1985), written by Douglas Gomery. It remains as true today as it was then, and is well worth being repeated.
By 1900 the researching and writing of history had moved from amateur to professional hands. Today there are thousands of historians working in universities and colleges. Their arguments rage over appropriate methodologies, the use (and abuse) of statistics, and the proper pursuit of publication. The general populace remains unaware of these machinations, save for a brief period in their days as an undergraduate.
Yet the pursuit of history for its own pleasure survives. Thousands delve into their own genealogy; an equal number participate in the activities of local historical societies; even more tour historic battlefields and monuments.
Little glory comes to the amateur historian. There are few prizes, awards or tributes. Indeed, if anything, professional historians teach us to place a low regard on the supposedly unsophisticated efforts of these “amateurs.”
Brother Andrew Corsini shows how wrong this judgment of professional historians is. Andy represents a throwback to the great amateur historians of the nineteenth century.
Consider this magazine you are reading. For its first eleven years, Andy was Marquee®. That is not to slight the many writers (including yours truly) who contributed to those issues. That is to say that without Andy there would probably not be a Marquee® as we know it.
From Marquee® came many things. First there was the renewed interest in studying and writing about old movie palaces. Until movie palaces became chic, Marquee® offered the lone voice for accurate, clear and informative writing on the movie palaces which were quickly disappearing from the American scene. But in the mid-1970s – often through Marquee® -- members of the architectural and arts community “discovered” the movie palace. And always in the same way, as best as I can gather.
The first inkling came from an article in the newspaper or word of a THS tour. Next, one found, read, and reveled in Marquee®. And finally, everyone wrote Andy, to obtain the basic data on the theatre in his or her community.
Before THS had an Archive, it had Andy.
He helped so many. The irony is that when a few professional historians discovered picture palaces, Andy helped them as well. Everyone, I repeat, everyone, who has written seriously on the movie palace during the past two decades owes a significant debt of gratitude to the skill and efforts of Andy.
In the end Andy transcends both the category of amateur and professional historian alike. He has, I would argue, moved to a special, unique position: the true scholar. His work has made a difference.
And to me that difference is best manifest in what one scholarly book labeled the wave of "Renaissance and Reuse” of the movie palace.
Consider what I believe is the finest example of that movement – the ST. LOUIS FOX. I felt Andy’s presence as I wandered through that magnificent building in June of 1984. Andy raised none of the money to revitalize that formidable structure; he did none of the new plaster work.
But I could not escape feeling that had Andy not been “Andy,” I surely would not have been able to revel in the Fox’s awe-inspiring edifice.
Buildings such as the Fox represent (in part) a lasting tribute to the contributions of the importance of the true scholar such as Brother Andrew. Surely this is a prize equal to any earned by more noted professional historians.
--- Douglas Gomery
(Vol.35, No.4), Fourth Quarter,
2003.]
THS founding member, past president, director, and former editor
THS founding member, past president and director, and authority on Chicago theatres
THSA former director, and Marquee® contributor
THSA longtime member, theatre historian and author
THSA longtime member and contributor to Marquee®
The Importance of the True Scholar
THS longtime member, former director and editor, and noted scholar, historian and author.
